A first.

I am bored, and for that, I feel guilty.

My knees are hurting, the seemingly plush carpet feeling like concrete as I kneel, staring at my own shadow on the wall.

The boredom has only crept up in the past few seconds, and is secondary to my other emotions. Excitement, fear, arousal, curiosity.

I take a sidelong glance towards the door, already breaking the rules, but you are not in the room, and I am not necessarily well trained. I am, however, careful not to move my head, only my eyes. It is not my intention to disappoint you, and so I avoid blatantly disobeying.

I take a deep breath, the muscles in my thighs aching from holding this lewd position.

I hear something. A creak. The house groaning in its old age, or your footsteps? I am unsure, but I direct my attention back towards the blank canvas of the wall, doing my best to ignore the doorway and your return.

I paint pictures of my expectations for this evening on the wall with my mind, wondering if this, our first experimentation with the dominant and submissive aspects of our personalities; will at all resemble our hopes.

It feels like hours ago that you watched me shed my clothes, fold them neatly, and fall to my knees. Back straight, arms folded behind, chest pushed out, eyes level and looking straight ahead. It is unlikely to have been more than a quarter of an hour, and even that may be an exaggeration.

My daydreaming is interrupted by a familiar sensation, and without thinking, I look down in embarrassment. I have become overexcited, as I always do when you are in the immediate vicinity. You constantly reassure me that my lubrication is not at all shameful, and instead, really rather endearing. Nevertheless, I still cannot help but blush as I watch the slow trickle down my thigh. I panic, snapping my head back into its instructed position as I hear yet another creak somewhere about the house.

Staring back at the wall, I decide I will tell you that I have been disobedient. You will appreciate, and expect the honesty from me.

I am terribly unsure as to whether or not I want you to punish me for my bad behaviour. My arousal increases tenfold and my nipples harden at the thought of being bent over your knee and spanked for not following the first, and so far, the only instructions you have given me.

I try to quell both the excitement and the guilt, convincing myself that you are not expecting perfection; if it were all too easy; it would not be any fun.

I grow used to the ache in my legs, straining my ears, wondering what you are doing without me.

You surprise me when you enter. So much so that I almost jump and turn my head towards you. Only my eyes betray me, and I realize I am misbehaving too late.

You chuckle, stroking my left cheek gently.

"It didn't take you very long to slip up, did it?" You ask me, and I long to see the playful grin shining in your eyes.

"No Sir."

"Was there anything else?"

You know me too well. An expression of mingled fear and disappointment crosses my face, as once more, it takes all of my energy to control my urge to make eye contact.

"Yes, Sir." I say with a sigh.

Seeing my distress, you pull over the desk chair and take a seat, leaning over, face to face with me.

"And what did you do?" You ask. Now I am desperate to look away. Your gaze makes my mistake all the more prevalent, and I feel like a thorough disappointment to the both of us.

"I looked down, Sir, I was distracted, by..." I trail off, absentmindedly looking down once more, as I confirm the situation has only worsened with your presence.

You laugh again, sending tingles down my spine, your hand under my chin guides my head back into place.

"O-Uh, s-sorry!" I stutter, cursing myself for screwing up again, but feeling relieved as I see the smile in your eyes.

You kiss me, your lips hard and demanding as I sigh, lost in the sensation of your tongue exploring my mouth. The pain I had felt in my legs is long gone and forgotten.

You break the kiss and I slowly open my eyes, holding onto the moment as I anticipate what will happen next.

"I left you here to decide if this is what you really want." You tell me. And as I search your eyes for doubt, or sadness, I find only slight concern, love, and excitement. This is enough to reassure me of my choice.

"This is what I want, Sir."

The words barely left my lips, your strike landing so quickly that I register first the sound, then the pain. Completely forgetting your orders, I reach up and hold my burning cheek. I am open mouthed in disbelief, my breath ragged as my tears trace their way down to drip from my chin, and continue their descent across the pale skin of my breasts.

Choking as I struggle to regulate my breathing, I look into your eyes. You are thoroughly satisfied, and I follow the movement of your hand to your crotch, where you are unfastening your belt, your erection quite conspicuously bulging against the denim of your jeans.

I do not wipe the tears from my face as I straighten myself, resuming my position. I do not even look directly at you as I hear the unzipping of your fly, and see in the corner of my eye the movement of your masturbation.

Sniffling quietly, the skin of my cheek on fire where you have slapped me, I feel my clitoris throbbing in excitement. "This is what I want" I think to myself.

I desperately hope that my surprised reaction has not cost me my reward.